


Thanks for Everything, Ryan Gosling

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 05:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13629966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: Wouldn't it just be the dream if your boyfriend acted exactly like the leading men in romance movies? Jeonghan thinks so. At least, he thinks Minghao thinks so.





	Thanks for Everything, Ryan Gosling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xumyuho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xumyuho/gifts).



> my dearest and most beloved, my angel and light. we talked about this little idea and so i wrote it. and i think you should have it. i know your birthday is in like july, but you were gone for a while last year, and i didn't get to give you anything, so take this as a very late birthday gift!! congratulations on the age! alternatively, valentine's day is in 4 days; will you be my valentine lmao. love you bunches and bunches. even if everybody runs me out of town for writing this, i hope you at least will like it a little bit!! luv 4eva

Jeonghan is not supposed to know about this. Mingyu tells him so right before he starts blabbing details on the very thing he’s not supposed to know about. “Minghao said he would kill me if I told you,” he says, “so you can’t let him know you know.” He’s always been like this when it comes to secrets. Mingyu is a very bad good friend.

“I won’t,” Jeonghan promises. He watches Mingyu take another sip of beer to steel himself and braces for the revelation.

“Okay.” Mingyu points a finger dead at his chest, through him like a spear. His eyes are cloudy, but his gaze is piercing. “You know those cheesy romance movies you guys like to watch and shit on?”

“Obviously.” Jeonghan grins. For a date night in, every once in a while, they’ll order dinner and watch one just to make fun of it. Jeonghan’s favorites are the ones where Minghao can predict exactly what’s going to happen before it does, right down to the big kiss. He has a gift.

“Yeah,” Mingyu says. “Well, here’s the thing: he doesn’t actually hate those.” His eyes sit heavy on Jeonghan to make sure he’s following. “He loves them.”

“He what?”

“Loves them,” Mingyu repeats. The way his voice drops makes it seem so much more serious. “He thinks they’re good. He thinks they’re romantic.” Mingyu makes a big shape with his hands, but it’s so clumsy Jeonghan can’t tell what it’s supposed to be. “He collects them. He’s got a whole bin that he keeps under his bed full of those shitty, stupid romance movies.” His face turns frantic. “He cried at the end of _Titanic_ , Jeonghan. He cried at _The Notebook_. He—”

“I think I get it,” Jeonghan interrupts. “But if he loves them so much, why does he make fun of them?” He’s got a half suspicion Mingyu is just trying to pull one over on him, though he wouldn’t normally try it a few beers in. Something about how serious he seems is also terrifying.

“Because he loves _you_ ,” Mingyu groans, “and he knows how much you like to drag them.” Jeonghan tries not to be touched, but he feels his eyes start to get wet. It only lasts for a second, because Mingyu burps on him and frowns like it was all Jeonghan’s fault. “And every time, he comes and talks to _me_ about them. And I can’t tell him that _I_ think they’re shitty because he’ll kick my ass, so I just have to fucking listen.” He huffs out an angry breath, and Jeonghan watches a little drop of split fly to the tabletop. “You’re ruining my life, you know. I hate people in love.”

“What about you and Seungkwan?” Jeonghan teases.

“Shut up!” Mingyu crushes his empty can messily and tosses it toward the garbage can. It hits the wall behind it with a tin thud, but then falls to the floor. Shame. “That’s different.” He sighs. “I mean, Minghao is just so… he’s so into that shit. Flowers and candles and kissing in the rain and whatever. And I’m the only one who ever has to hear about it, you bitch!” With a groan, he slaps his hands over his eyes. “Fuck! Shit!” Another few breaths to calm down, and he looks back at Jeonghan with dead eyes. “Anyway, don’t tell him I told you that. I have a lot of shit I need to do before I die.”

“I won’t tell,” Jeonghan assures him. He watches Mingyu give him a satisfied smile, then fold his arms beneath his head like a pillow and go to sleep on them. Then he figures he better head back to his own apartment.

Minghao is closing at work tonight, so the apartment is empty when he gets home, and Jeonghan figures there’s no time like the present. Even though it makes him feel like a criminal, he sneaks into Minghao’s room and turns on the lights. It’s always so neat in here save for the way Minghao hangs jackets over the back of his chair instead of back up in the closet, and this makes it easy for Jeonghan to hunch beside the bed to check whether the fabled movie bin is hiding below it. He has no idea why his heart is beating so fast, but it gets even faster when the bin is there.

He pulls it out with as much delicacy as he can manage, slow so he doesn’t make any ruts in the carpet that tell Minghao he’s been here. It’s shoved almost all the way to the wall, so it’s a long while before he can get the lid off, but when he does, the sight sends a wave of shock through him. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling; his whole body feels half numb.

Inside are the very movies Mingyu told him he would find there, but somehow, as he picks up each DVD case and inspects it, it’s hard to believe. Every single oversaturated romance film, every shitty straight romantic comedy ever released—they’re all here, in this one box. Jeonghan can’t believe his eyes. He hasn’t even heard of so many of these, yet if Minghao owns them, that must mean he’s seen them. Jeonghan guesses he did have almost twenty years before they met to watch all these, but the thought is still boggling.

All he can really think about is how he never noticed. This box is completely stuffed, and it’s not small either. How could he have missed it when they moved in? But as soon as he starts thinking about that, he moves on to the bigger question, the harder one: why? Minghao isn’t usually very secretive—not since they’ve been together, at least—and this seems like a strange one to keep. Maybe he’s just embarrassed, but Jeonghan hurts a little to think that’s the case considering he told Minghao about the full year of middle school he spent going to class with acne cream dotting his  face because he didn’t know he was supposed to rub it in.

Mingyu’s words come back to him. “He’s so into that shit,” he’d said, very eloquently. A thought hits Jeonghan, and he freezes. Somewhere, deep down, he guesses Minghao probably wants that for himself. A smile starts to bud on his lips. There’s no reason Jeonghan can’t be the ultraromantic dream boy Minghao’s subconscious must be desiring. The more he thinks about it, the more he absolutely can be that. What, buying flowers? Child’s play. Lighting candles? Twirling Minghao around in the air? Marginally more difficult, but still easy. Making a romantic dinner? Hard. But probably still doable if he applies himself. Surely.

After he very carefully arranges Minghao’s secret movie stash the way he found it, he wanders out to sit on the couch and await Minghao’s arrival home, full of satisfaction. There’s not much time left to come up with anything to do right away, so he turns on the TV and sprawls out on the couch in lieu of preparing any rose petals or champagne. The jingling of keys outside sometime later rouses him from the stupor he’d fallen into watching old reruns of _Iron Chef America_.

Minghao looks exhausted, just like he always does after work, but he fixes Jeonghan with a smile anyway, weary and wearing down at the corners. “You look comfortable,” he says, walking over to take a seat in front of Jeonghan’s stomach where he’s scooted back to make room. “Red snapper battle, huh?” Jeonghan hums assent.

“How was work?”

“The worst.”

He always says that, and Jeonghan’s pretty sure he means it. Even from where he lies, he can smell the scent of the restaurant on Minghao’s skin, every entrée he carted out of the kitchen and basket of bread he dropped off on a tabletop. He hates serving, and he loves to mention how much he hates it, but the restaurant where he works is pretty upscale, and the money is so good he refuses to quit until they fire him. Minghao’s hand finds Jeonghan’s thigh and gives it a few pats. “Have a good dinner with Mingyu?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan manages, though his chest does squeeze a little out of nerves. He grabs Minghao’s free hand and swings it around with his own. Something about that bundle of knuckles makes him feel so at home. “Wanna talk about work?” Minghao exhales slowly.

“I don’t even wanna think about work,” he groans. “I just wanna shower. And I think I’m going to.” He squeezes Jeonghan’s hand once before letting it go and standing back up to leave. “I’ll probably go to bed, too, since I’m wiped, so goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Jeonghan watches Minghao take a few sluggish steps away and round the back of the couch before a bright idea overcomes him and he calls out, “Ah, Minghao, wait!”

“What?” Minghao sighs, but he turns around and comes back anyway, leans over the back of the couch and looks down at Jeonghan with impatient eyes. There is a fondness somewhere inside them. Jeonghan reaches to take Minghao’s hand again and brings it to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“I love you more than anything,” he coos, and Minghao stares at him for ten silent seconds before dropping his face and snorting. Jeonghan can just make out a charming redness on his cheeks.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, but he still kisses Jeonghan’s knuckles back. They tingle a little bit while he walks away, and it almost distracts Jeonghan enough to miss the hushed, “I love you, too,” as he closes his bedroom door. Smiling, Jeonghan raises those knuckles to his face and holds their warmth against his lips.

 

Jeonghan still hasn’t found a good opportunity to do anything romantic by the following Thursday, and he’s starting to get worried he may not actually be the perfect rom-com dreamboat boyfriend Minghao secretly wants him to be, which means he will inevitably be dumped, which scares him. He stares at the ceiling like Ryan Gosling might fall out of it and tell him what to do, hard enough to crack it, but no actor crashes down to save him. Instead, the sound of the front door slamming makes him jump, and he rolls out of bed to see Minghao storming inside. Rather than going to his own bedroom, he marches into Jeonghan’s and falls on the bed, dragging Jeonghan back down with him.

“Everything okay?” Jeonghan asks, and Minghao’s arm tightens around him. For the first few seconds, he’s afraid Mingyu spilled the beans about spilling the other beans that were Minghao’s secret movie stash and now he has to pay the price with his life, but he reasons through the paranoia quick enough to understand that Minghao’s anger is just seeping into his need for comfort and starts patting his chest.

“No,” Minghao sighs. When he closes his eyes, he really looks like a doll. The only thing stopping Jeonghan from kissing him is how much he also looks like he’s ready to blitz himself into oblivion. Slowly, the tension leaves his shoulders, and he opens his eyes again to stare at the ceiling, which Ryan Gosling has not yet fallen out of. “I’m just pissed.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jeonghan asks as he pokes him in the ribs.

“Today just sucked,” Minghao plows on, expunging all air from his lungs in one hard breath. “I forgot an assignment here, so I had to print it again at the library, but I didn’t have enough money in my stupid school money account, so I had to call Wonwoo and ask him to come pay for it for me since everyone else I know was in class, and then I was late, and my professor almost didn’t let me turn it in.” His frown deepens while he talks, eyebrows lower, the anger sinking in afresh. “And I guess something happened on my drive home, because I have a flat tire now.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Minghao’s fingers drum restlessly where they sit at Jeonghan’s waist. “And there’s no way I can get it fixed before I have to go into work, so I have to get a ride from Janet, and I just… really don’t want to. Her car always smells like weed.”

“Is she gonna bring you home later, too?” Jeonghan asks. “I can pick you up when you get off, if you want.”

“I wanna tell you not to worry about it,” Minghao begins, turning to him with a tiny hint of a smile, “but I would really prefer if you came and got me, yeah.”

“You’re so cute,” Jeonghan gushes, pinching at one of Minghao’s cheeks despite his determination to swat the hand away. “Of course I’ll get you. Just make sure you remind me before you get off.”

“You better remember even if I don’t remind you,” Minghao hums, prodding Jeonghan in the side with a fingernail. “If you forget about me, then everybody else probably already has.” He squishes his palm against Jeonghan’s cheek and places a light kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be done around 10:30. Don’t make me walk home.” Then he gets up and goes to change into his uniform.

Jeonghan spends most of the evening on a project he has due the next day, but he finishes earlier than he expects, so by half past nine, he’s twiddling his thumbs and wondering how early is too early to leave to get Minghao and how long he’s willing to deal with sitting in the parking lot to wait. It’s as he’s just begun to consider a brief nap that inspiration strikes him. The ghost of Ryan Gosling stands before him in the living room.

“What would a real leading man always show up with?” the faux-Gosling asks, and Jeonghan blinks at him slowly for a while before an answer comes to him. He snaps his fingers.

“Flowers!” he shouts to no one, leaping to his feet. “Thanks, Ryan!” he says, also to no one, as he only imagined Ryan Gosling’s ghost in the first place, and Ryan Gosling is also still alive. With a quick glance at his watch, he figures fifty-four minutes is plenty of time to go pick up flowers and meet Minghao as he’s getting off. He grabs his keys and bustles out the door with the wind at his back.

The florist is about to close by the time he gets there, but the employees begrudgingly let him in anyway, all staring at him as he inspects every flower in the shop. He’s looked at six bouquets before he realizes that he not only has no idea what to buy but also is running out of time to decide, so he pulls out his phone and calls the greatest romantic he knows.

“Hello?” Jihoon grunts into the receiver after the second ring. He always sounds so grouchy when he answers the phone, but Jeonghan convinces himself it’s not justs because he’s the one calling.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says. “What kind of flowers should I get for Minghao?” Jihoon doesn’t even try to hide his scoff.

“Why the hell are you asking me?”

“Because you’re the king of romance.”

“By what reasoning?” His voice gradually increases in volume as his sails fill with outrage. Jeonghan wonders if the shop employees can hear him.

“You wrote Junhui a song,” Jeonghan reminds him. He hears Jihoon splutter on the other end.

“Okay, what, one time?” Jihoon defends. “And I’m just good at writing songs. It’s not because I’m romantic.” Another voice comes through, fuzzy but distinct, and it only says a few words before Jihoon yells, “You shut up!”

“Is Junhui there?” Jeonghan asks. “Ask him what I should get.”

“Did you hear that?” Jihoon asks, away from the mic. Jeonghan can hear Junhui speaking, but he can’t make out the words, so he waits until Jihoon decides to relay the message. “He said Minghao likes carnations.”

“Really?” Jeonghan narrows his eyes and starts looking for them among the bundles of flowers before him. “He never told me that.”

“Did you ever ask him?” Jihoon pauses. “Why are you buying him flowers, anyway?”

In a thoughtless moment of panic, Jeonghan hangs up on him without answering. If there’s one thing Jihoon hates more than being called, it’s being hung up on, and if there’s one thing he hates more than being hung up on, it’s being hung up on directly after he’s asked a question to which he has not yet received an answer. So Jeonghan knows he’s made a mistake. He also knows that the timing is too suspicious for him to act like it was an accident, so he’ll have to start thinking of a good way to bribe Jihoon to stay quiet after he’s weaseled the truth out of him. Before that, he looks at the time again and begins an even more frantic search for carnations.

The rest of the drive to Minghao’s work is made under high stresses that he won’t be on time anymore—not that Minghao will hold it against him, he guesses, but flowers have more impact if he’s standing outside and holding them when Minghao lays eyes on him. That’s how the movies always do it, anyway. He ignores the tick of the green numbers on his dash clock while he teases his way through every yellow light on the drive there.

In a rare stroke of luck, the clock is scratching at 10:27 when he pulls into the parking lot, which more or less gives him time to stand outside the car and look like the love of Minghao’s life whenever he walks out the doors. The cold is a little too much for him, and his every cell is telling him to climb back in and turn the heat on, but he reminds himself that Ryan Gosling would stand and wait as long as it takes, no matter the temperature. Theoretically. It’s so much harder in practice.

Minghao doesn’t emerge until several eons have gone by, and Jeonghan is sure his toes are long frostbitten, but he perks up anyway. The only lights are the lamps at the corners of the parking lot, but Jeonghan could pick out that silhouette in an unlit cave with his eyes closed. He watches Minghao turn his head in a brief search before spotting him and starting his walk over. As he approaches, his face becomes easier to see, and Jeonghan sees that his eyebrows have risen much higher than they usually sit. A tiny smile floats on his lips.

“Flowers?” he asks, and Jeonghan holds them forward so he’ll take them. Their fingers brush as the bouquet passes into Minghao’s hands. “What for?”

“For you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.” Minghao rolls his eyes, but he sniffs them anyway, so he’s already taken with them. Even in the dark, Jeonghan is seeing pink. “Aren’t they pretty?”

“Very pretty.”

“Just like you.”

“You’re so weird.” Though he says it, he still cups Jeonghan’s cheek with one hand and kisses him, leaned against the side of the car. A slight wind rustles them, but it’s warm. “Let’s go home.”

 

The carnations are still standing in a vase on their kitchen counter when Jeonghan takes a trip to Walmart and is hit with another wave of inspiration. January has only just begun, but all of the Valentine’s Day merchandise is already out, which includes the extremely obvious, like large heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, and also the less obviously obvious, like stuffed animals. As Jeonghan passes the aisle most overflowing with pink and red, his eyes fall on a giant bear, almost his height, and he freezes in his tracks. Behind the bear, the ghost of still-living heartthrob Ryan Gosling stands again, beckoning to him.

“Come on,” the ghost says. “You just thought of him, didn’t you?” He pats the soft white fuzz on its head while Jeonghan walks closer. “Just buy it.”

Jeonghan feels at the red bow tied around its neck gingerly, scrunching his nose at the price. But what price can truly be put on love? “You’re right, Ryan,” he says, thankful nobody is around to witness him talking to an apparition. “I am gonna buy it.” So he does.

As it turns out, the bear is fucking huge. It barely fits in his car, and its humanoid shape compels Jeonghan to strap it in under a seatbelt, alongside the worried way his car beeps at him under suspicion there is an unbuckled person in the passenger seat. Driving it is one thing, too, but actually getting it inside without looking like a maniac is something else he definitely has to worry about. After pondering for six minutes in the silence of his car, he decides his best route is to sprint to the front door, unlock it and leave it ajar, then sprint back to the car to retrieve the bear, then make one final sprint into the apartment with it. He doesn’t like sprinting, but he decides it’s probably worth it.

By the time he’s lugged it into Minghao’s room, his chest is heaving. He’s sure he hasn’t done so much running since he was a freshman in high school, and he’s also sure he didn’t even do that much, but that doesn’t make him less exhausted. Weary, he searches Minghao’s room for the best place to put it—not like he’ll miss it no matter where it is. His initial idea is to sit it in his desk chair and make it look like the bear is studying, but the bear has one spine too few to sit up straight, and the way it hunches forward onto the desk is sad and also kind of creepy. Second choice is the bed, which requires much less of a skeleton to be aptly used, so Jeonghan lays the bear down and begins arranging it meticulously. He doesn’t know what pose he really wants to go for, but while he’s getting there, he becomes much more interested in the soft look of the covers and comfortable-seeming stack of pillows. He’s so tired, he thinks. Just a minute.

When he wakes up, he’s forgotten what day it is and why he’s here. Luckily, the bear’s comforting arms around him help him remember a little, but the low light coming in through the window tells him he’s well outstayed his allotted minute of naptime. Minghao has a late class tonight, so he shouldn’t be home for a while, which gives Jeonghan plenty of time to get out of here before he’s caught. At least, that’s what he thinks, but the sound of the front door being opened shocks him out of his outermost layer of skin. In a frozen panic, he decides his best option is to pretend to be asleep again.

The light is bright red through his eyelids when Minghao flips it on, and it’s hard to keep himself from opening them, but he manages. He’ll wait patiently, he figures, until Minghao says something or shakes him, then pretend to wake up, then… figure something out. The plan goes awry when the lights turn back off and he feels a heavy thud on the mattress beside him. Arms worm their way around Jeonghan’s waist, and then he can hear Minghao breathing just behind his ear, faint but certain. Maybe he just also wants to take a nap.

“I know you’re not asleep,” Minghao whispers gently, drumming his fingers on Jeonghan’s stomach. “You think I’m some kinda moron?”

“No,” Jeonghan sighs. Minghao’s hushed laughter rings behind him.

“Why are you canoodling in my bed with a giant bear?”

“I’m not,” Jeonghan defends. He tries to wiggle around, but it’s pointless; Minghao’s arms are too tight around him. “I bought it for you.”

“Oh, did you?” Minghao hums, like he didn’t even need to be told. “Why’s that?”

“I saw it and thought of you,” Jeonghan tells him, which is basically true. He feels at the bear’s fur. “He called out to me.” It is not by accident that he neglects to mention _he_ was the ghost of Ryan Gosling and not the bear at hand. Minghao hums again, lower in pitch, and adjusts his arms.

“You’re very sweet to me lately,” he muses. “And generous.” The next breath waits a little while before coming. “Anything I should know about?”

“Only how much I love you,” Jeonghan singsongs. “Which is immensely.” A moment’s silence passes by, and then Jeonghan feels the distinct sensation of lips pressing against the back of his neck, a warm chill tingling in his spine. Minghao kisses slowly around to the back of Jeonghan’s ear, teases at the edge of his jaw, loosens his arms just a little bit. Jeonghan breathes slowly. “Is that where this is going?”

“Was that not what you were aiming for by lying on my bed and waiting for me to come home?”

“Well, I didn’t…” He exhales as Minghao’s hand creeps beneath his shirt, fingertips cold and fleeting. “I accidentally decided to take a little nap here when I was setting down the bear.”

“I see.”

“But, you know, I’m not arguing.” Minghao laughs at that, loud and light, and slides his arms from around Jeonghan to form a human cage overtop him. His smile from this angle is breathtaking. For a long minute, he hovers like he’s got something to say. “What is it?” Jeonghan asks. Minghao’s grin changes somehow; it warms or brightens. All Jeonghan knows is his stomach feels jittery.

“I just like you,” he says, and he kisses Jeonghan after he does, sweet on the tongue. When Jeonghan closes his eyes, he hears a soft crash beside him and feels the presence of the bear leave his side. “There’s not enough room on this bed for all three of us,” Minghao mumbles against his lips, and Jeonghan can’t help but chuckle when he kisses him again.

 

By now, the flowers have breathed their last, but it doesn’t matter, because Jeonghan has come up with his best, most romantic idea yet, and they pale in comparison. This new idea is so good, in fact, that he’s not sure how he’s going to top it after this, but he figures he can cross that bridge when he reaches it.

For this late January evening, he has planned everything down to the nail, directly emulating every shitty romance movie man he’s ever seen to perpetuate the culmination of all their perfect dates. First, he’ll have Minghao distracted for a bit while he gets everything ready—Wonwoo consented to be the distraction without a single question—then he’ll get all the candles lit and rose petals laid down and mood music rattling out of the speakers. Most importantly, he’s going to face his fears and make a romantic dinner.

Jeonghan is not famous for his cooking, but he’s looked up a lot of recipes in preparation for this, and he’s going down the classic route: spaghetti. They probably won’t wind up Lady-and-the-Tramp-ing it, but something about spaghetti just feels perfect for a romantic evening, so his heart is set on making it. It’s also not that difficult to make, which was another major selling point. He bought frozen garlic bread that’s already in the oven and a chocolate cheesecake that’s still in the fridge, so all he has to do is not fuck the spaghetti up tremendously. If the ghost of Ryan Gosling can do it, so can he.

Expectedly, it’s not as simple as it sounds. Jeonghan is sure neither of what al dente really means nor of whether it’s what he ought to be aiming for, so he tests the pasta via his own highly scientific method of eating one noodle every once in a while and trying to remember if that’s what a it’s supposed to be like. He decides after the seventh noodle sample that this is good enough and takes the pot off to drain. Once he sets the sauce on a burner to heat up, he escapes for just a moment to change into a suit, because dinner can never be romantic without a suit. They don’t have an apron, so he can only pray he won’t get anything on it.

He gets a text from Wonwoo that he’s about to drop Minghao back off at home just as he’s taking the garlic bread out, and he barely resists the surge of satisfaction it brings him to have everything be turning out so perfectly. Of course, his rational brain says there’s no way everything could be turning out this devoid of flaws, but his Ryan Gosling brain elects to ignore it in favor of swirling the spaghetti onto plates and wiping up the drippings of sauce like they do at restaurants.

Minghao walks in when he’s slicing the garlic bread into pieces. He pauses and turns around to watch him come in, puts on his most charming smile and waits to see Minghao’s reaction. What seems to shock him most is the low light, dark everywhere except where Jeonghan has lit candles, and he stands still in the doorway until his eyes adjust enough to see Jeonghan clearly at the kitchen counter. The smile on his lips is very wary.

“What’s going on?” he asks. His bag makes a quiet thud as it drops to the ground, and Jeonghan leaves his post at the cutting board to clap hands on Minghao’s shoulders and guide him to the table.

“Just sit down,” he says. “We’re about to eat.”

“About to eat what?” Minghao asks, sitting down anyway. His eyes start to roam when Jeonghan leaves to resume slicing, take note of all the candles and the dark pattern of rose petals scattered all around the floor. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Jeonghan carefully balances two plates on his arm while carrying the little basket of bread in his other hand, and as he does, he realizes Minghao probably could have pulled this off much better. “We’re just having a dinner date.” No breaths leave him until he has safely placed all three dishes on the table. “Eat up.”

Minghao looks down at his plate and twirls a single noodle around one prong of his fork. “Did you make this?” he asks slowly. “It looks good.” Jeonghan’s face colors, more out of relief than anything else, and he beams back at Minghao over the candles flickering between them on the table.

“Yep,” he says, chancing to lift his own fork. “Tell me if it tastes good, too.” He watches until Minghao takes a bite before deciding to take one himself. It’s not bad at all.

The spaghetti tastes so surprisingly alright he could almost cry, but it’s offset by the strange silence Minghao is giving him. It’s not that he talks much at dinner normally, but this is a new level of quiet, only a handful of words stretching for minutes at a time as he eats each small forkful. Jeonghan tries not to let it bug him; there’s a good chance Minghao is just being shy about it. He gets like that sometimes, and Jeonghan doesn’t like being the crowbar in the clam shell, so he’ll let him.

When they’ve finished their entrée, he heads to the fridge to retrieve their dessert and plate it up, then pours sparkling cider into their fanciest-looking glasses to go with it. Originally, he wanted to get real champagne, but he’s coming to learn that being a romantic dream boy is very expensive, and his wallet is begging him to stop, so he went for the cheaper alternative this time around. It’s the feeling that matters, anyway.

Minghao stares at him while he sets their drinks and cake on the table, eyes full of curiosity and also something else Jeonghan doesn’t recognize. His lips look like they want very much to smile, but they don’t. “So,” he coughs, slicing the tip of his cake off with the side of his fork, “what’s all this for?”

“Nothing special,” Jeonghan says, smiling. “Just because I love you.”

“That’s it?” Minghao prods. “Really?”

“Really really.” Jeonghan nods at the plate in front of him. “Just eat your cake and don’t think about it.” Instead of doing that, Minghao sighs and sets his fork down. Then he folds his hands on the table, which is never a good sign.

“Alright, Jeonghan,” he says. “You know I love you, right?”

Jeonghan chokes. “Yes.” The tone of Minghao’s voice does not sound like the tone he wants in this situation, and his chest starts to stiffen. Something about this gives him the vibe of a _but_ coming after, as in _but it’s not working out_ or _but I think we might not be so good for each other_ , and that would be the exact opposite of what he’s been trying to do. And both their names are on the lease!

“Right,” Minghao says. “I love you. So just tell me what you did.” Jeonghan blinks at him.

“I… made dinner?”

Minghao groans. “I know, but what did you _do_?” He extends his hand and places it palm up in the center of the table. “I’ll forgive you. Just tell me what it was.”

“I’m very confused, Minghao.”

“You’re trying to apologize for something without bringing it up,” Minghao explains. “The flowers, the bear. This. I want to know what it is.”

“I’m not trying to apologize for anything,” Jeonghan huffs, affronted. “Why would you assume I’m trying to apologize?”

“Because you don’t do this.” He gestures at the candles, the rose petals. “You’ve never done this. You think it’s stupid.” Jeonghan feels a pang when Minghao points a finger at his chest. “You wouldn’t even buy me a box of chocolates on Valentine’s Day last year. And today _isn’t_ Valentine’s Day, but you made dinner. I know something is up.”

Jeonghan lowers his face into his hands and blows out a breath. It’s true, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to admit it. “I guess I don’t do this,” he allows, weary, not looking up from the table. He can see Minghao’s palm still facing the ceiling at the edge of his vision.

“Yeah,” Minghao says. “So why don’t you tell me why you are now?” Jeonghan takes in a deep breath and sends a mental apology to Mingyu, wherever he is right now. Probably with Seungkwan. Probably blissfully unaware he is about to be betrayed.

“First off,” he breathes, “I didn’t do anything wrong. Mingyu just—”

“Oh, Jesus,” Minghao groans. “What did Mingyu do? What are you about to say?”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“Hearing that does not make me feel good.”

“He told me about your stash.” Minghao raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t get it. “The movies, Hao. Under your bed.” Now he looks like he’s getting it. “I saw them.”

Minghao closes his eyes and presses his lips into a line. “That bastard.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not.” Seems like a lie, but Jeonghan takes it anyway.

“He told me not to tell you that he told me.”

“So you’re trying to apologize for him telling you?”

“I’m not trying to apologize at all,” Jeonghan tells him. It’s so hard to explain this without sounding like an idiot, but that might just be because he is indeed an idiot. “I just… you know, you like them, don’t you? So I thought I could give you that.”

Minghao cracks one eye open. “Give me what?”

“You know.” Jeonghan doesn’t want to say it out loud, but it looks like Minghao is going to make him. “Like, being the super romantic fantasy guy. Like the ones in the movies.” Minghao’s jaw hangs open now, eyes blank. “That’s what you want, right? But you’re just too embarrassed to say it.”

Minghao wets his lips and presses his fingers over his eyes. Slowly, his mouth curves into a grin. “I’m not embarrassed,” he says.

“Yeah, right.”

“Really.” Minghao lifts his chin, and his gaze now is dreamy. “I’m really not.”

“Then why did you hide them?” Jeonghan presses. “Why do you act like you don’t like them?”

“Because you like to trash them,” Minghao says, “and I don’t want you to feel guilty for doing it, and I don’t want to ruin date night. Which is why I told Mingyu not to tell you.”

“So you aren’t secretly hoping I’ll be your rom-com dream boy?”

“Listen.” Minghao sets both hands out on the table, palms open and inviting, and Jeonghan feels compelled to take them. They’re warm and comfortable, and they feel like home. Jeonghan feels like he’s breathing right. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he says, “but you already are my rom-com dream boy.” He swings their hands around, candle flame dancing in his irises. “If I wanted rocks at my window, I wouldn’t be here.”

Jeonghan’s chest swells, but his mouth feels a little dry. He refuses to tear up right now, though his eyes are very close to betraying him. “Don’t you like it, though?” he mutters.

“I won’t act like I don’t,” Minghao tells him, thumbs ghosting back and forth over his knuckles, “but I don’t need it.” All the ghosts of every romantic film leading man shimmer like mirages and melt into darkness. Goodbye, Ryan Gosling. “I know what I signed up for. And I love you.”

“Christ,” Jeonghan wheezes. “I love you.”

Jeonghan heard once that the original purpose of lighting candles in the center of the tabletop was to prevent any kissing across the table, but if that’s true, they disregard it. The candles are just far enough toward the sides of the table that they don’t quite get in the way, and they lean over the tabletop until their lips meet in between. It is sweet and warm and comfortable, and every climactic kiss in every romance flick in Minghao’s bin falls unforgivably short.

“Ah.” Jeonghan leans back for a breath and grabs Minghao’s shoulders. “You’re not going to kill Mingyu, are you?” Minghao’s laugh is gentle and sifting.

“Of course I’m going to kill him,” he says. His quiet chuckles echo when he leans in for another kiss. As Jeonghan savors his lips, he does not feel bad for Mingyu at all.

**Author's Note:**

> happy early valentine's day to all you lovers out there.... i brought you the exact gift you wanted: this shitty jeonghao that you never asked for and actually didn't want. i had other things i needed to start but i am the crowned queen of fucking around and not doing what i ought to, so here is this for you right now. i hope you enjoyed!! it was pretty fun for me to write, and i hope it's fun for you to read, and i hope you also never forget that i live and die by the jeonghao blade. thanks so much for giving me a little read!! cross my heart i will be writing better things this year than.... this...... hopefully.... as always, all feedback is greatly appreciated! so long!


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